Draco Malfoy the emo Boy
by AlexaR
Summary: When I decided that a humourangst story was a good idea, Draco became an emo cutter. Now you can read about his hilarious tearjerking ways.


Well, I think this story requires a brief explanation. I decided one day that humour and angst would make a charming combination, so I started this. I'm not sure what to make of it myself. If you enjoy it, hate it, or just really hate author's notes at the beginning of a story, let me know. I'm more than happy to receive any sort of review, even flames!

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Draco Malfoy turned seventeen last June. It was celebrated grandly at his family's large estate and everyone commented on how it was so wonderful that some young people still have manners these days. Draco even got to visit his father in prison. But, when the festivities had ended and the last guest left at the end of the night, the sliver haired boy sat in his room and felt only emptiness, like a cold, wet fish where his heart should have been beating.

Draco stood and moved slowly to the stately oak desk under his window. He opened the top left hand drawer and shifted a pile of scrolls and crumpled balls of paper aside to reveal his knife. It was a beautiful heirloom and had been in the family for thousands of years. Draco could still remember the day, during the summer before his fifth year at school, as was tradition, that his father presented it to him.

_It had been a boring day for Draco; he had sat in the parlour with his mother while she entertained the ladies of high society. His father had been up in his study all day and Draco knew that he had a Death Eater meeting in the evening. _

_Lucius never let them know when he was leaving, but they could generally tell when he was coming home. This evening he showed up just after midnight, earlier than most meetings, but not suspiciously so. When he threw the door open and stumbled in, Draco and Narcissa got up and went to greet him. They arrived to see a house elf attempting to take Lucius' fur coat and failing quite miserably. _

"_Get off you stupid elf, I won't give you this coat! I said this coat is mine and I was telling you the truth, now stop attempting to thieve it you swine!"_

"_Master must let Garble take his coat sir, or Master will become very much overheated sir!"_

_Lucius stalked into the sitting room, ignoring both the elf's continued attempts to take his coat and his family's greetings. However, upon arrival in the sitting room he found it quite impossible to ignore the persistent elf any longer. He lifted it by its skinny neck and threw it roughly at the wall opposite the door, effectively smashing its head in, breaking its spine in two places, and staining an exquisite carpet below. _

"_How was your meeting dear?" Narcissa asked politely, taking a seat on the settee._

"_Oh, just the usual. You know, mass rapings and the like."_

"_Well, that is lovely. I had some ladies over for tea, and you know, Mrs. Torez was saying that our gardens look like they could use attendance. I couldn't believe her nerve. If you could see her gardens, dear. Their gardener is all thumbs! Pulls anything at-"_

"_You know it's a bit late for me to be expected to put up with your constant and irritating prattle, Narcissa."_

"_Lucius, that was exceptionally rude!"_

_Lucius stuck Narcissa across her face._

"_That," Narcissa said calmly, "was not only weak, it was entirely uncalled for."_

_Draco had been standing by the doorway uninterested in his parents' conversation until he saw his mother struck. With a cry of outrage, he lunged at his father, intent on beating him to a pulp. Lucius simply batted his son easily to the side. Draco's head glanced off the table with a dull 'thunk' before he lay motionless on the floor._

"_You know Lucius," Narcissa said pensively as her husband drew his wand, "that coat paired with your cane makes you look a bit like a pimp. You really must learn to consider these things when choosing clothing."_

_Lucius ignored his wife's comment as he revived his son and hauled him to his feet._

"_Come, Draco," Lucius said. "You will learn the consequence of attacking me, as well as a longstanding family tradition."_

"_I don't think I'm all that keen on being a part of any of your 'family traditions'," Draco replied. "Not if you're going to be a brute and beat my mother."_

"_Don't be stupid, you insolent child! I've been maiming this family on a routine basis since before you were born. Now come with me to the dungeons!"_

_Lucius swept off in the direction of the dungeons with Draco trailing behind dejectedly. Suddenly he stopped mid stride and turned around._

"_I've changed my mind. The dungeons don't make any sense, no matter how dramatic they are. To the Sytherins-are-my-life Wing!"_

_After roughly twenty minutes of walking through the mansion, the Malfoy men arrived at a solid silver door with jade snakes inlaid in it. If you were to find a dictionary with somewhat random pictures instead of useful definitions, you might choose to look up 'excess in the extreme', which really doesn't make sense anyway, because dictionaries are famous for providing definitions for _single_ words. In any case, should you choose to do such a thing, you would find a picture of this door. You also might find a picture of this very drawn out and rather boring explanation. _

_When Lucius pushed open the ridiculous doors, a cloud of dust came pouring out of the room._

"_Fucking house elves. They think this gives a person's introduction to the room more drama. The problem is they can't seem to comprehend that subtlety is key. In any case, let's grab what we need from this room and move to another; this dust is death for my allergies."_

"_What is it that we need, exactly?" Draco asked cautiously. _

"_What? Oh right, you're ignorant. Well it's that box on top of the table in the middle of the room. Go in and grab it for me would you? I really can't abide this dust."_

_Lucius took out a handkerchief and pressed it to his face, while his son hurried to obey. The box that he lifted off the table was plain wood of a low quality and covered in a thick layer of dust. As was, obviously, everything else. _

_When his son handed him the box, Lucius quickly strode off down the hall, calling for his son to follow him away from the dust. _

"_This," Lucius said when they arrived in a different green and silver room, "has belonged to the Malfoy family for 15 389 years, next Tuesday."_

"_A chipboard box has been around for that long?"_

"_What? Oh, no that's only been around for 15 years. I'm talking about the precious contents. Every Malfoy heir, since this object was crafted, has received this the year before he came of age, then put it in storage when he produced another heir."_

"_How unnecessarily complicated."_

"_Don't question the thoughts of your ancestors! They were grand and wondrous and deserving of our worship. In fact, when this is all over we will go worship at the family crypt. Now, as I was saying, the heir receives this heirloom from his father in a special ritualistic way."_

"_What 'special ritualistic way'?" Draco asked warily._

"_By being buggered by a red hot fire poker!" Lucius' eyes gleamed and Draco turned white as a sheet._

"_Wha- what?" he squeaked in a most undignified manner. _

_Lucius laughed until tears streamed down his face, rolling on the ground and letting his long hair get matted and filthy. He finally composed himself and, still wiping tears from his eyes, told his son, "I'm only joking. No, no, but you really should have seen your face. Don't worry, it's just being ass raped by my pimp cane."_

"_Very funny, father," Draco said tersely. _

"_I'm not joking. Now come on, I'm tired from all of the death eater activities I've been up to all evening."_

_Draco lay on the floor sobbing when his father had finished. The cruel man above him tossed the box down next to him and after saying, "enjoy," swept out of the room. Draco took the box and opened it. Inside was a knife, unparalleled in beauty by any other in the world. The handle had the family crest on it, surrounded by gleaming sapphires and diamonds. Pulling it out of the box, Draco examined the edge of the blade, touching it to his palm; he instantly felt the warm trickle of blood streaming out of the fresh wound. _

'_Now this,' thought Draco with a small smile hovering about his lips, 'is a worthy weapon.'_

Now Draco put the blade again to his own skin, his forearm this time. He pulled it across the skin that was already so marred with scars and watched the blood drip out of his body.

'When I received this knife,' Draco thought, 'I envisioned myself stabbing, cutting, goring, slicing, dicing, and julianing other people. What a cruel twist of fate that I find myself cutting my own arm, wallowing in my own blood and self-pity.'


End file.
